


And It's Never Enough (But God Knows I Tried)

by BeautyGraceOuterSpace



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Migraine, Post Movie, and also angry, jim is sad, post nerada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyGraceOuterSpace/pseuds/BeautyGraceOuterSpace
Summary: The liquor burned going down. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the biting sting was just what he needed to keep himself grounded when all he wanted to do was scream. He tapped the channel button on the remote with, admittedly, a little more force than was strictly necessary. Tap. Tap. Tap. And his face was on every fucking channel.“James T. Kirk, acting captain during the incident--” Tap.“--son of George and Winona Kirk, whose father was tragically lost in the Kelv--” Tap.“--hero of the federation.”Bullshit.





	And It's Never Enough (But God Knows I Tried)

The liquor burned going down. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the biting sting was just what he needed to keep himself grounded when all he wanted to do was scream. He tapped the channel button on the remote with, admittedly, a little more force than was strictly necessary. _Tap. Tap. Tap_. And his face was on every fucking channel.

“James T. Kirk, acting captain during the incident--”

_Tap._

“--son of George and Winona Kirk, whose father was tragically lost in the Kelv--”

_Tap._

“--hero of the federation.”

_Bullshit._

He tossed back the last of the drink in his hand and poured himself another. Ordinarily he wouldn't drink such strong stuff, and especially not on a weeknight, but as Starfleet scrambled to pick of the pieces after the whole incident with the Nerada he had been given ample leave to do as he pleased. He was, after all, still technically on probation.

Upon their return to earth, he had been greeted by a blinding flash of light and the sudden cacophony of a roaring crowd, all desperately vying for his attention, a photo, a comment. There had been cheers and tears and Jim was by no means claustrophobic but there had been people pressing in on all sides and he had just frozen.

And then he remembered what a PR shit show this was going to be when the details started coming out, so he pulled himself together and put on the face. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. He paused for a few photos, he made some cliche statement about “the fine men and women of Starfleet” and their “resilience and strength in such a tumultuous time for the Federation.” Blah blah blah.

He was honestly surprised anyone bought it. He had looked like utter hell. Bones had done the best he could with the limited resources left over after the damage done to the MedBay during their initial arrival at Vulcan, but many of the good machines had suffered too much to be usable. The bone regenerator was, unfortunately, among the casualties.

Bones had been able to bandage him up alright, but without bone regen he had been left with a few broken ribs, a fractured hand, a cracked cheekbone, and a mottled assembly of bruises that, though he had barely noticed them himself, showed up all too clearly in the photos of their arrival.

He'd thought he'd been doing pretty well at playing up the golden pretty boy of the ‘fleet, aside from the distinct rasp to his voice, strangulation is a bitch… right up until some well meaning weepy citizen had swooped right up and squeezed his bad hand in a firm, grateful handshake. _Ow._

His smile had definitely turned more grimace, if Bones’ reaction was any indicator. Lagging behind as they prepared Pike for an armed transport to medical, he had caught up just in time to see that little display and to loudly and angrily proclaim to everyone present to “clear the way, goddammit vultures!” before firmly placing a hand on the back of Jim’s neck and grumbling, “You. Medical. Now.”

He'd been given the full once over by an unreasonably irate Bones in full doctor mode. Jim’s hoarse comments about having had far worse didn't seem to abate the ire. He was thankful Bones didn't take it out on him, administering the few hypos he wasn't allergic to that would help repair his damaged throat. He didn't think his neck could take much more.

After setting up the regen for his hand and ribs, Bones had gruffly declared that he would live, but that if he ever pissed off a Vulcan and a Romulan warlord in the future, he was clearly a bigger idiot than anticipated and Bones was leaving him to his fate.

Once the regen was complete, Bones had ordered him to get some rest, and he had tried, God he had tried. He was exhausted and everything kind of hurt all over, but trying to sleep in a hospital was basically the equivalent of trying to sleep in a cage filled with mountain lions to Jim. Especially with Bones gone to help treat Pike, Lord only knew what the other doctors would try to pull on him. If he was lucky, he'd escape with some minor anaphylactic shock. If he wasn't…

Thoughts of Tarsus had been heavy on his mind since the destruction of Vulcan. All those people, gone. No warning, no logic, no reason… senseless death. Loss. Grief. Story of his life.

And the things he'd said to Spock… _Christ_.

He'd lasted all of 47 minutes in the hospital bed Bones had abandoned him to before he signed himself out AMA and made his way slowly, painstakingly to the apartment they shared on campus. He was surprised not to encounter any citizens, only the occasional cadet or officer, many of whom he vaguely recognized from running past them on the Enterprise at some point or another.

He'd managed to make it almost all the way to their building before the blinding pain had nestled itself behind his right eye. Warning sign. He carefully forced himself up the stairs to the door, limbs burning with every movement. He wasn't exactly aware of making it into the lift, or to their room, but he managed not to fall face first into their door and he guessed that was good enough.

The door had hissed open and he had hissed back, the noise grating inside his skull and echoing like a yell in a cavern. Then the lights flooded his eyes and he actually did cry out, a soft sound that hurt nearly as much as the hiss of the door.

He had rasped out the command to dim the lights before dragging himself to his room, lying gingerly on the bed, curling up and passing out.

He had awoken hours later to the dulcet tones of an angry Bones.

“What the _hell_ do you think you were doing?”

He had jerked awake, every muscle in his body protesting the sudden movement, eyes flying open and oh god, bad idea. Slamming them shut again, he whispered, “B’nes, wha--”

“You signed yourself out AMA?” Bones had continued, and though Jim hadn't been able to see him with his eyes closed, he just knew Bones had been standing there, towering over him, arms crossed, brows furrowed, the absolute picture of rage.

“‘m sorry, ‘kay?” he had mumbled burrowing his face as far into his pillow as he could.

“Oh, you're sorry? Jim, you have no idea what I gave you, if you needed to be monitored for any reactions, if--”

“‘m sorry, B’nes,” he had murmured pathetically. If he had been in any fit state to pull himself together he would have been embarrassed, but it was Bones and his head had been pounding a goddamn samba and everything was too much. So he had done his best to make Bones understand, and slurred out, “No h’sp’tals. Couldn’ sleep.”

Bones had sighed heavily, and there was something sad in it, but at that point his head had decided to give a particularly vicious twinge and he had honest to god whimpered and tried his best to effectively burrow into his pillow entirely.

Bones had sat down on the edge of the bed, or so he had assumed by how the mattes dipped, and much more quietly, though with no small amount of urgency said, “Jim, what hurts?”

“Head,” was all he could get out, but his mind thoughtfully supplied, in tempo with the throbbing pain: neck, torso, arms, legs, feet.

There was a brief silence and the weight on the mattress shifted again. For a moment, Jim had thought Bones had left the room, and he had flinched when he felt the hypo pressed against his neck.

“Easy,” Bones had soothed. “That should help, ok, kid?” No sooner had he said it than the pain began to recede and he had sighed in relief.

“Thank you, B’nes,” he had mumbled, body already succumbing to sleep once more.

“You're on medical rest for at least 3 days, starting tomorrow, ok? You're body isn't happy with you right now. You've been through hell, and you need to rest and recover. I mean it, Jim.”

He was pretty sure he had mumbled some noncommittal sound of agreement before he passed out again, but he wasn't sure.

That had been a week ago. Felt like forever.

There had been debriefings, confirmation debriefings, debriefings with the crew, debriefings alone, nothing but debriefings for days afterwards. They had gone over it again and again, the minute details explained and re-explained over and over: yes, he had sneaked on board. No, he hadn’t coerced Dr. McCoy into helping him onboard. Yes, he had identified the lightning storm. No, he had not been emotionally compromised by said fact. Yes, he had been in an altercation with Commander Spock. No, he did not feel said action was unjustified.

Yes, the ends justified the means.

Yes, he was aware of the gravity of the situation.

No, he had not been aware of the number of casualties.

Can you repeat that figure, sir?

And we are certain of the accuracy of such a high number?

_Christ._

He took another drink. The screen continued showing his stupid, arrogant face, plastering his image across every network like some beacon of hope. A myriad of words caught his eye as he flipped rapidly through the channels.

Cadet. Brave. Intelligent. Courageous. Intuitive. Hero.

_Bullshit._

It was at this moment that Bones arrived home from his shift at Starfleet Medical, where Captain Pike was still being treated in an attempt to regain some mobility in his lower half. He entered the room, standing behind the couch where Jim sat slumped, drink in hand, still constantly pushing the button to change the station. Jim half heartedly raised his drink in greeting; he was not expecting it to be plucked out of his grasp. With a weary sigh, he hoisted himself to his feet, turning to face Bones and abandoning the remote. The screen blared with the report it had been left with: “---thanks to the heroic actions of Cadet James T. Kirk---”

“Bones,” he said, holding his hand out for his drink. Bones glanced from the tv to the glass, lifting it to his nose and taking a whiff.

“Jesus, kid, it’s 2 in the afternoon,” he groused.

“I know what time it is, Bones, can I have my drink back please?” Jim didn’t exactly look at him as he spoke. He kept his eyes more or less lowered to the ground.

“--quick thinking saved the crew of the USS Enterprise--”

“What is this?” Bones asked, ignoring his request and jerking his chin towards the screen.

“Nothing, just--” he made a sloppy grab for the glass, but Bones caught his wrist and held him back as he continued taking in the video feed.

“Jim,” Bones’ tone had changed. It was hesitant, cautious… there was something dark lurking underneath, something that bordered on anger, but it didn’t seem to be directed at him, so Jim shrugged. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just wondering what crap they’re spouting out, that’s all,” he replied, extracting his arm from Bones’ grip and finally retrieving his drink. He made his way to the armchair, finishing the drink off as he went and setting the glass gently on the table. Bones’ followed the sound with his gaze, and it was then he spotted the half empty bottle.

“You tellin’ me you’ve been sitting here alone watching news feeds and drinking?” Bones said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to do some explaining, kid, ‘cuz I’m not understanding something.”

Jim sighed and tugged his hands through his hair, resting his elbows on his knees and he hunched over in the chair. When his grip verged on painful, he whispered, “They’re calling me a hero.”

“Well, course they are, you saved hundreds of lives--” Bones cut off abruptly as Jim let out a cynical bark of laughter.

“Saved… sure,” he said sarcastically. “Saved a few lives by being somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be in the first place. Real heroic. Never mind the thousands of Vulcans who were obliterated from the universe, never mind that the fleet lost over 1,700 people by warping into a trap that I could have maybe saved them from if I wasn’t on probation for pulling a stupid stunt with the test,” he was standing now, pacing angrily back and forth, voice raised to a shout as he continued. “Never mind that if I had bothered to pay attention to anything but that goddamn test, I could have prevented all of this. If I had been in good standing, then maybe I could have gone to Pike sooner, maybe I would have been his first officer anyway, without having to say all that God awful shit to Spock, maybe I could have stopped some of this from happening. But yeah, I managed not to get everyone killed, so good for me!”

His chest was heaving, and his eyes stung, He could feel indents in his palms from his fingernails. Bones hadn’t moved. He was staring at Jim with a look bordering between livid and concerned. Jim sighed.

“Bones, I’m sorry, I’ve had a few drinks and I--”

“Shut up.” Bones’ voice was sharp, cutting him off with no room for argument.

“I just--”

“Shut up and sit down.”

Taking a deep breath, Jim did as he was told, sitting rigidly on the edge of the armchair as he waited for Bones to explode back at him. He deserved it. The silence lasted too long. After a few moments, Bones left the room. Silent treatment. Even better. Jim didn’t move.

Bones returned a few minutes later with his PADD, which he thrust angrily into Jim’s hands.

“Read it,” he demanded, crossing his arms as he towered over the younger man. Jim did as he was told, scanning the screen.

It was a personnel file. The ID photo showed a young woman, no more than 28 or 29. She was 5’5”. She was married. Her name was Simone. She had been assigned to the Enterprise.

“Ok, I read it. Bones why are you showing me thi--”

“She has a kid. Little girl named Marissa. Six years old and likes to write stories. She keeps one of her daughter’s stories up at her work station at all times, because her daughter wrote about her mama, the Starfleet officer.”

“...ok, I still don’t understand why--” Bones reached out and flipped the screen to another profile, a man who had just turned 33, also assigned to the Enterprise. His name was Christopher.

“His wife just had a baby a few days back. He was so grateful to be here for the birth, grateful to be here at all, really.”

“Ok, Bones, I get it--”

“Oh, we’re not done.” Bones moved to his side and began swiping through page after page of personnel files. Faces, names, details flashed by quickly, and Jim struggled to take them all in. Some he didn’t recognize, some he did. Spock, Uhura, Chekov, McCoy, Sulu. After several long minutes, they reached the end of the files. He stared down at the screen, which still showed the file for “Zenith, Aria”, until Bones lifted it gently from his grasp. Crouching in front of him, Bones took his shoulders in his hands and gave him a firm shake. “437 people. You know what every single one of those people had in common, Jim?” Jim met his eyes hesitantly. “You saved their lives.”

“But--”

“Jim,” Bones said quietly. “I know you don’t believe in no-win scenarios. But this was one. We had no time, no knowledge… we all just did the best we could. And your best, kid? It saved lives. You did what you had to do, and you brought your people home safe. That’s more than anyone could ask for.”

Jim hesitated. “The things I did--”

“Would you do them again?” Bones asked. Jim considered for a moment. Would he make the same choices again? Would he rig the Kobayashi Maru? Would he let himself be smuggled aboard a ship while under probation, challenge the captain, fight his way up to command, take the same risks, make the same calls?

“... yeah. Yeah, I would,” he said quietly. “But---god, the things I did… the things I said--”

“So apologize. Make good where you feel you need to, but as far as I am concerned, and I’m sure everyone else who was on board that ship would say the same, you may have used some unorthodox methods… but I’ll be damned if they didn’t work.”

Jim thought for a moment, weaving his fingers together and leaning back in the chair. He had done the best he could. It hadn’t been enough, not in his opinion. Maybe he’d never think so; Lord knows Tarsus still haunted him at the best of times, and he’d only been a kid then. But maybe, just maybe, he could make peace with the fact that he had at least done something. So much had been lost the last few weeks, but he had at least prevented more loss.

So maybe he’d never see himself as a hero. Maybe everyone else _needed_ to. Maybe that could be ok.

The video feed continued in the background. “-- at least 400 lives saved, more if we take into account the Vulcan’s rescued and the prevention of further destruction at the hands of this Romulan, Nero, and all due to the heroic action of--”

Jim stood from his seat and turned it off. He turned and looked at Bones, his roommate, his doctor, his best friend. He was alive. Bones and Spock and Uhura and Scotty and Chekov and Sulu and Pike and at least 430 others were alive.

For now, that was enough.


End file.
